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Baby Let's Forget the Morning

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Jason's never admitted it, but he often wonders if Dick ever thought of him as family. Sure, he's begrudgingly allowed himself to fall back under the “batfamily” header, but that's different. When Dick calls Tim and Damian his little brothers, it always feels more genuine than anything he and Jason ever had.

He guesses that's nobody's fault, really. Dick was way more involved in Tim's training than in his. And then there was that whole Batman and Robin thing with Damian. Meanwhile, from what he's heard, Dick didn't even go to his funeral.

Still, Jason catches himself thinking about it from time to time. Most times it's in the dead of night, when he's brooding alone on some rooftop with the taste of a stale convenience shop sandwich in his mouth. It's not usually when he has Dick Grayson's cock in his throat.

Come to think of it, that last bit doesn't usually happen to him, either. So tonight's a little bit of an anomaly, all things considered.

He's always gotten a little riled up from fights, a little more hot under the collar than any reasonable person should. But Jason has taken an extensive amount of time to catalog all the ways in which he is not a reasonable person, so popping a stiffy during the occasional fight's never ranked too high on his list.

Not until tonight, when, for whatever reason, it turned out Dick was having the same problem. Jason had noticed, and couldn't keep his smug commentary to himself. The rest, as they say, is history.

He's got Dick pinned by his hips, writhing around on the concrete. They're tucked behind some abandoned warehouse, one that, if they're lucky, won't be the site for any shady dealings tonight. At least, not until they're good and done. His suit's unzipped at the front, and Jason's in the middle of bobbing his head up and down, minding his own business, when that ugly “what-am-I-to-him” train of thought bubbles up in his mind again.

He tries to distract himself by urging things along, pulling away to trade wet, sloppy kisses with Dick and direct his hand down his pants. But even with Dick jerking him off and breathing rough against his neck, he can't stop thinking about it.

What they're doing right now, the way Dick's touching him, this has gotta mean that he doesn't really think of him as a brother, right? Does that mean he never did, or is this some sorta recent development? Is he hot enough to make people forgo their pseudo-familial relationships? Damn, it's a lot to unpack.

Luckily for him, Dick kisses down his body, enveloping his cock in the tight, wet heat of his mouth. That's enough to blank out Jason's mind for a solid few minutes.

When he comes to his senses, he catches himself holding Dick by the hair and fucking up into his throat. Dick's brow is furrowed, he can tell even with his mask on, but one of his hands has disappeared between his legs, and it doesn't take a lot of imagination to figure out why. The little slurping noises he makes have Jason's toes curling in his boots, and he can hear his own voice, breathy and low, bouncing off the walls above them.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, pulling Dick's hair so hard that he comes off his cock with a pop. “Hold on a second. Jesus.

“A 'please' would've worked just fine,” Dick says, wiping spit from the corners of his mouth.

Jason smirks. “This ain't prep school anymore, big bro.”

Silence.

Jason had always thought that that “you could hear a pin drop” saying was bullshit, but there and then, he could swear one materializes just to fall to the ground and prove him wrong. He and Dick stare at each other, eyes wide behind their dominoes, like they're seeing each other for the first time. It's less a fairy tale moment and more an oh-shit one, like he just gave voice to everything they'd been avoiding this entire time.

The air changes between them. Jason doesn't know if that's a good or a bad thing, but he doesn't intend to sit idly by and find out. Leaning forward, he grabs two fistfuls of Dick's uniform, tugging him into another deep kiss. He honestly expects Dick to pull away, but his breath stills for just a second, and then he's returning the kiss full-force.

Okay. So they're both learning things about each other tonight. Jason can dig that.

He urges Dick onto his back and climbs on top of him, grinding their spit-slick lengths together. Dick shudders and sighs into the kiss, but his hands hover by Jason's sides like he doesn't know what to do with them.

Jason grabs one and pulls it down to his ass. “Touch me,” he breathes, kissing down Dick's jaw, lips brushing against the skin just above his high collar. “Dick. Big bro. C'mon...”

He hears Dick exhale through his teeth, but he doesn't pull his hand away. “Jason...”

“Wanna fuck me? Hm? Wanna fuck your little brother?”

“St-stop.”

“You're sick. I want you inside me.” Jason doesn't know what he's doing, doesn't know why he can't shut the fuck up. He rocks his hips faster, mouthing at the spot just under Dick's ear. “Want you to make me feel good. You want that? Wanna make me come?”

Dick tosses his head back. It smacks against the concrete. He exhales, grabbing Jason's ass with both hands now. Jason feels like he's won.

“That's it, bro. Nice and hard for me. Can feel how much you want it, Dickie-bird, ungh...

Dick shuts him up with a forceful kiss, flipping them over so he's on top. Jason's first instinct is to wrap his legs around Dick's waist, but that makes it hard to get undressed, which seems to be Dick's singular focus at the moment. He shucks Jason's jacket off, gets stuck on his body armor, and moves instead to tug off his pants, underwear, and boots. Every time he reveals more skin, he peppers it with kisses and love bites, and Jason loses his mind under his touch.

Inside,” Jason huffs, rocking his hips under Dick's firm, still-gloved hands. “Inside me, c'mon...”

Dick's mouth stills at his inner thigh. “I don't have any lube.”

“...Dick Grayson doesn't have lube on him?”

“Nightwing doesn't. And shut up.”

Jason grins. “Make me.” He waves a hand toward his pile of discarded clothes. “Jacket pocket. Inside. On the left.”

When Dick doesn't move, Jason looks down to see him arching a brow. “Red Hood carries lube around?”

“Red Hood knows sometimes life comes at you hard. In more ways than one, y'kn—”

Dick wrinkles his nose and cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “Okay, stop.”

Jason laughs, and it's almost enough to distract him from how fast his heart is racing. Maybe this will be okay. Maybe they'll be able to live with this added layer of weirdness once they're done.

Or maybe Dick's just good at acting nonchalant when he's horny. Guess only time will tell.

Jason's musings are cut off when he feels something slick pressing against his hole. He looks up to see Dick, quite a sight with his suit unzipped and half-off, now gathered around his thighs. Looks like he's wearing one of the “gloves attached to the sleeves” models. Really not one-night-stand friendly.

The fact that he has enough time to think about that means he's not getting fucked yet. He fixes Dick with a hard stare.

“You gonna stay like that all night,” he starts, voice breathy, “or are you gonna show your little bro a good time?”

He can't see Dick's eyes through the lenses in his domino, but he swears, they darken somehow. Maybe it's the line of Dick's jaw that changes, or his posture, or his breathing, but something appears there that wasn't there just a second before. And just like that, Dick leans forward, catching his mouth in a hard kiss, and it's gone.

“You sure?” he asks against Jason's lips. “I won't be upset if—”

Jason grabs him by the shoulders.

“For the love of god, Dick Grayson, if you don't jam your fingers up my ass in the next three seconds, I'll make you eat me out 'til your face goes numb.”

“Alright,” Dick says, voice high and clipped. “Alright. Message received.”

He slides a finger in, and Jason's world is bliss. He's been fucked before, but there's something different about being fingered by Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson, his brother, in name if not by blood. It has him shuddering, arching his back, encouraging Dick to slide a second finger in not long after.

He doesn't know what he'd prefer to look at: Dick's flushed face, or the hard curves of his arm as he works his fingers in and out. He's not as wide as Jason, not as bulky, but there's a confidence in his movements that has Jason rocking backward with every thrust. Then he changes his angle, hits that spot inside him, and oh, Jason's eyes flicker shut, hazy with pleasure.

“Now,” he groans, urging Dick closer with a heel at his side. “Fuck me. Fuck me, bro, fuck me, fuck me...”

“Shh.” Dick kisses him once, twice, and it's so chaste that it loops all the way back around to being intense. He pulls his fingers out, and Jason laments their loss while Dick slicks himself up. “Just... just trust me. L-little bro.”

He says the last bit softer, but Jason hears it like it's in surround sound. He breathes out, clutching at Dick's shoulders, his back, his hips, tugging him in. The wet head of Dick's cock presses against his hole, and he muffles his noises in another kiss.

Dick slides in in one smooth motion, Jason relaxing to allow every inch of him inside. He pants open-mouthed against Dick's lips, wrapping his legs around his waist. He feels so open, so vulnerable, but at the same time, with Dick's body shielding him from above, he feels safe. Wanted.

Jesus, he's a sap.

They stay lip-locked while Dick starts to move, slowly at first, quickening up when he realizes how much Jason can take. Dick's back is drenched in sweat, his bangs stuck to his forehead, and Jason watches him with half-opened eyes, marveling at how incredible he looks when he's ruined like this. He wonders if Dick will want to remember this night, or if he'll try to pretend like the whole thing never happened as soon as they're dressed. Before he even realizes he's doing it, Jason's digging his nails into Dick's skin, intent on leaving marks there that he won't be able to ignore.

They're both wound tight. He can feel it in the way Dick's hips move, in the bite of his teeth against his lips. He can feel it in his own body, in the heartbeat in his throat, the ache in his thighs. They haven't stopped kissing this entire time, but their lips slide against each other with less direction now, the both of them more focused on the pleasure than anything else. Teeth knock together, brows knit, and they really must be alone, because their moans are so loud that anyone in the immediate area is bound to be able to hear them.

He feels Dick speed up, and he takes that opportunity to pull away from the kiss entirely, tugging Dick's head down so he can speak directly into his ear.

“You're gonna make me come, big brother,” he says, too sweet, too breathless, and Dick comes undone under his hands.

He could swear Dick almost sobs through his orgasm, face buried against Jason's shoulder. But Jason can't focus, too close himself, feeling his cock rub on Dick's stomach, Dick's cockhead pulling against his prostate in a way that yanks a moan deep from his throat. Then, finally, Dick squeezes a hand between them and jerks him off, and it's Jason's turn to knock his head against the concrete when he comes.

When Dick pulls out and lays his head on his chest, panting raggedly, Jason's mind has the nerve to jump to that scene from Titanic, of all things. Of Rose lacing her fingers with Jack's and telling him, “you're trembling.” And Dick is.

So Jason resigns himself to a bit more affection, and grabs Dick's hand, fingers intertwining. He feels Dick relax a little more, and wonders what's going through his head. If he's thinking about how fucked up he is, or if he's just trying to plan a graceful exit.

Doesn't matter. Jason got his answer. Whatever happens between the two of them in the future, at least he has that.